


all roads lead to home

by probee



Category: NCIS
Genre: But I can't get it out of my head so here we go, Episode: s17e01 Out of the Darkness, F/M, Season 17, Speculation, Spoilers, but not really because there's no way this is gonna happen, s17e01 Out of the Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-16 13:14:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20821217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/probee/pseuds/probee
Summary: One Marine. One assassin. One long night of waiting for the coast to clear.





	all roads lead to home

It’s a hell of a thing to stop to smell the roses in the middle of a firefight.

It’s also a hell of a thing to come back from the dead. 

As they sit in silence in this clearing in the still of this night, they both suppose this isn’t even on the Top 10 list of craziest heists in which they’ve been involved. 

However, the stakes have probably never been higher. 

This is always the hardest part of the hunt. Lying in wait for the prey, finding the perfect moment to strike. 

(Only it’s hard to tell the hunter from the hunted these days.) 

They cannot discern how long they have been held up here. Hours, certainly, since dusk has given way to the darkest of nights, out here in the middle of nowhere, with only the stars to light their way into the unknown. 

For the time being, they are alone. With each other and their thoughts and their demons. 

So they wait. 

Huffed starts and stops. She knows he has questions he’s too scared to ask. He feels her memories rising to the surface, which she’s holding back out of self-preservation. They’ve come to a sort of détente in the hours since their last argument, understanding that their mission, and their lives, depend on cooler heads prevailing. 

They each have their routine to pass the time. She surveys and re-surveys their arsenal, keeping a mental inventory of what they have on them and how they should use it. The best tools for each job. He keeps a watch over the horizon, his eyes looping over the darkened fields and his ears honing in on anything out of the ordinary at this little party. Eventually all he makes out is the sound of their own breathing. And the words left unsaid. 

He figures he may as well break the ice. She’s an old hand at this stakeout stuff and he knows she won’t chance yelling at him or stomping away. Besides, seeing her angry is better than desperate. 

“So what other intel does your _contact_ have on these guys? On what’s going down?” 

She considers him and hesitates, before sighing in surrender. “Only what I have told you so far. She has been working through her channels to find out what kind of chatter is out there, but these cells appear to work independently of each other. It is quite minimalist, it seems.” 

He stares at her unnervingly. Too long. “Not the contact I was talking about.” 

It is her turn to bore right into him. 

“Come on, Ziver. I’ve seen that look on your face for the last three days. I know that look. You two were never as subtle as you thought you were.” 

“I do not know what you are talking about.” 

“You think I couldn’t tell when you and DiNozzo were hot bunking? I always knew when you guys were on or off again. It was pretty damn exhausting.” 

She begins to stammer, to which he raises his eyebrows in _that_ way, so she narrows her eyes and pouts for a second, though she also knows there is no use in arguing. Instead, she gives what could almost be considered a chuckle. 

“I guess we thought we were pretty smart back then.” 

“Well, you sure tried, I’ll give you that much.” Now they both genuinely laugh. 

She sobers quickly. 

“There is no direct communication. Dead drops. Online forums in coded messages. It usually goes through Odette or Adam or other trusted allies. I believe this is what you call ‘old school’. But it has worked so far.” 

“How long has DiNozzo been involved in this?” 

She waits. “Since he got to Paris. We tried to keep him out of it. For their safety. But… you know Tony.” 

The revelation knocks the wind out of the older man’s sails a little bit. Her accusation earlier that he gave up on her stung. Realizing that her partner never did, trusted his instincts, it puts it all into relief. 

“Have you seen him?” 

“Yes. Sporadically. When we can find safe ground. It is not easy.” 

“And Tali?” 

“A handful of times. At first I was adamant that I had to stay away, because I wanted her existence to remain hidden from Sahar as long as possible. But Tony… He insisted on finding a way. Apparently he believes he has learned spy craft by osmosis.” 

This elicits a smile out of Gibbs, too. 

“It’s getting harder as she gets older. She understands more. The last time was about a year ago. She has gotten so tall.” She is holding back tears now. 

“And you’re gonna get to see her grow up even taller soon.” 

She huffs, her face revealing the mounting fear that she might not get that chance. 

“Where is she now?” 

“Safe. I do not know the details of her whereabouts. We all thought that would be for the best. Just… in case.” The last part hangs over them. He nods in acknowledgement, devastated at how far she’s had to think this through. 

They sit quietly for a moment. 

“So what’s the game plan?” 

“We are to secure the perimeter. There is an entrance to an old cellar under the bush right over there. When they arrive and enter the barn, we move. We take out their advance squad if necessary, then we go through the cellar and surprise before they know what hits them.” 

“There are a lot of moving parts there, Ziva. You sure about this?” 

“What choice do we have?” 

He isn’t positive how to answer that. 

As if on cue, they hear rustling in the hedges before they see the convoy arrive. It’s go time. 

— 

So it goes like so many operations before, only this one means the world to both of them. Everything is riding on this — their reputation, their safety, their lives, their homes. Yes, they’ve sacrificed before, put it all on the line, but they both know there is no turning back from this one. One way or the other, this threat will be neutralized. 

That is the funny part about being comrades in arms. The years of training take over, and they follow in line with each other nearly wordlessly, dutiful soldiers through and through. (This is part of why they always understood each other: they were the only two in their tight-knit circle who had been in combat. You check your emotions at the door to complete the mission. There will not be time to question, because questioning leaves you dead.) 

They sneak through the tall grass as covertly as they can, waiting for their coast to clear. She has a funny feeling about this, which is unusual when she is in operation mode, and the faintest rustle of the wind activates her spider senses. (Why spiders would have special senses she does not understand, but she’s heard the saying often enough to apply it to the situation.) Is her mind playing tricks on her again? Is it self-doubt? Is it a weather disturbance? Whatever it is, it creates too much noise in her head. It is distracting her from the task at hand. 

“You ready?” 

She looks at her mentor and nods. She isn’t ready at all, yet cannot get this over soon enough. 

(One way or another.) 

They approach their entryway, nearly imperceptible from years of meadow overgrowth, and Ziva jiggles the latch to open the old door from the tunnel. “Well?” she turns to Gibbs behind her, who sighs ever so slightly in hesitation. “You do not have to do this, you know. The plan was always for me to do this alone. You can take cover.” 

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen. I was just thinking maybe we’ll find some moonshine down there.” 

She doesn’t get his reference, but she appreciates the attempt at levity. She could almost persuade herself that this was like old times, where they reconned the premises and their team silently lingered nearby to save the day. Only now what is at stake is far more precious to them both. 

She’s crawled through this secret path before, determining the logistics of confronting her supposed mortal enemy, a ghost haunting her every waking memory. When push comes to shove, though, the whole journey takes on an ominous note, like someone is watching her every move. This may be suicidal, but if she can take out the people who wish to bring harm to her family, she’ll consider it a worthy end. 

They make it through the narrow passage leading to a crumbling brick wall, and Gibbs watches as his former protégé pushes through them one at a time to reveal an entrance into an even smaller access leading to the building. Clever, he thinks, this old exit disguised as a crawlspace to the unsuspecting eye. (He wonders if anyone _has_ suspected, lately. But it is not his call.) Ziva carefully jimmies the door open, and once a quick spot check reveals it to be empty, the pair enter the musty cellar, the smell prickling their noses as they pad through the room. 

She makes it first to the bottom of the staircase, and pauses for a second, looking up to the main floor, the point of no return. If she were ever to have reservations, to second-guess what they are doing, now would be the time to act. He is an arm’s length behind her (in more ways than one), a pillar in case she falls. She looks back at him, a flash of doubt in her eyes, but all he does is nod at her, telling her that _yes_, he will follow her to the front line, and she nods in return. Taking a deep breath, she rises one step at a time to their next battle, he trailing closely. When they reach the landing, she gingerly cracks the door open to survey the situation, careful not to let even the tiniest squeak reveal their presence. 

Only what she sees out of the corner of one eye sends a chill down her spine. 

“Dammit, DiNozzo!” 

For all her planning, her hidden messages and covert surveillance, the cocky cop from Baltimore has blown it all to pieces and somehow ended up in a building full of armed terrorists all by himself. If she weren’t so terrified for all of their survival, she’d storm in there and unleash the full force of her rage on him and then some. She shakes off the anger and attempts to ground herself. Gibbs, meanwhile, snorts to himself. _Typical DiNozzo, playing the cowboy in designer jeans_. This has certainly thrown a wrench into the takedown. 

He places a steady hand on her shoulder, reassuring her that they have this. She is surprised at how comforting the gesture is, even after all this time on her own. “It looks like Tony has decided to start without us. I cannot believe this. He is alone in there with at least six suspects. All armed. Tony seems to have been _dis_armed.” He is also apparently forcibly detained. There is _déjà vu_ in the air for both of them waiting in the shadows. Neither of them are quite aware of what the op is, but they can’t believe that Tony would be foolish enough to confront a band of world-class criminals by himself without a reason. (Except it is completely different when _they_ do it.) 

“He’s not alone.” 

“What?” 

“DiNozzo, he’s impulsive, but he’s not dumb. If he’s here, he’s got backup. I guarantee it.” 

“How? We didn’t see anyone out there.” 

“We also didn’t see him enter with them.” 

She’s embarrassed at the oversight. 

Now the play has changed. She had no problem charging, guns blazing, when it was just herself at the helm. Now that the love of her life is in the thick of it, she reassesses the best approach to take down these miscreants once for all. _What the hell was he thinking_? Instead of working behind the scenes while remaining safe and sound with their daughter and an armed secret agent or ten, he’s being held at gunpoint by anonymous villains who have wanted her dead for years. The whole scene is absurd. 

Suddenly, though, she realizes that he has some sort of strategy, precisely because he is so over-the-top, full of bombast and egging on his captors, stumbling around as if he’d spent the whole night drinking. (She _has_ seen this before.) His swaying back and forth clearly unnerves the henchmen, and she worries they will shoot out of irritation before they get what they want out of him. But as he staggers, he turns around so that she can see his face from her perch; he stares at her dead-on, and she is certain he’s known this whole time she’s been right there waiting. She gasps in recognition, and the flash in his eye tells her, _not yet_. Before the gunman catches on, he pivots the other way, leading them on a sort of waltz throughout the cluttered space. 

The wait is excruciating. She isn’t used to following orders anymore, or of not being in control. Of not spending every waking moment of her life worried about her family, about the monsters ready to hit, about losing everything before she’s ever been able to touch it. She also acknowledges that this is now out of her hands — the only person to whom she’s ever ceded control is now risking his life in front of some of the most dangerous people in the world, all to save them. Playing along is the only way out now. 

“Ziva, what’s going on?” Gibbs whispers behind her, concerned at their halt. “Wait,” she replies, too pressed to explain the whole _why_ of what she knows. Then they feel it; a different charge in the air and in Tony’s performance, a sixth sense that indicates that _something_ is about to happen very soon. She sees him subtly nod his head — it looked like the lolling head of a drunk to any stranger, but she knows him, and intuits that whoever it is watching his six is ready. And so is she. 

And that’s when she hears it. 

“You guys have forgotten one very important detail,” Tony teases. 

“Oh yeah?” a hulk of a man asks him in heavily accented English, “What is that?” 

“Don’t poke the bear unless you’re up for the fight.” 

“Huh?” 

On the signal, Ziva and Gibbs burst through the door, counting on their sneak attack to take out their opponents. They get two down with ease, while Tony works on a third. It’s a mess of limbs and weapons, and as the shock wears off the cronies, their attack intensifies, and she and Gibbs continue to battle with their two marks while Tony struggles with his own. More black-clad assailants emerge from the hidden corners, and that is when a task force storms the barn and all hell breaks loose. 

Ziva can vaguely tell that Gibbs has knocked someone out, and that forces another burst of energy to rise from deep inside and allows her to overpower woman pinning her down. She fights and with every strike pours her years of fury and sorrow and pain into her assault. The faint sound of choppers overhead and emergency vehicles in the distance are drowned out only by the blood rushing to her ears as she unleashes every ounce of energy she has into defeating her foe. Eventually she feels something tugging at her arm, which does nothing to dissuade her, but when Gibbs yells her name, she comes to. 

“Ziva, she’s out. _Stop_.” 

“NO. I can’t.” 

“ZIVA! She’s done. We leave it for the team to deal with now. We gotta get DiNozzo.” 

“What?!” 

“Number six escaped. He’s in pursuit.” 

Panic sets in at the thought of Tony in danger, all by himself, and she takes off in a mad dash. Because she’s always had her partner’s back. 

— 

She feels the shot fire before she hears it. 

The air is humid, damp, hanging over the field 

“TONY!” she erupts in a bloodcurdling scream and races towards the sound, against any common sense, except that of her heart, which is now in her throat. Gibbs’ own heart sinks as he takes after her, terrified of what they are about to find once they turn the corner of the building. 

She keeps yelling his name, willing this to be another nightmare. _No no no nonononononono_, this is not how it was supposed to go. _Could he not have listened for once in his life_?! She is consumed with fear and rage as she passes the clearing and makes it around the barn, ready to strike with all her might. Gibbs strains to catch up to her, yelling her name to no avail, worried himself that this entire plan has predictably gone FUBAR and they are about to run head-first into a trap. Or into a crime scene they should not witness. 

She nearly trips as she rounds the corner, but stops dead in her tracks as she processes the picture. 

On the ground is an unconscious man, shot in the chest. 

Standing over him is Tony, gun still drawn and frozen in place, eyes steely. 

Their eyes lock. 

“It’s over.” 

Her mind is blank for a moment. She does not fully comprehend what has actually taken place. Then it hits her— _mission accomplished_. 

She bolts, crashing into him at full force and falling into his open arms. It knocks him back a little, being on the receiving end of adrenaline-rush Ziva, which is remedied once he wraps her in his arms, the weight that has hung over them for years now lifting with every laboured breath. 

“Ziva, it’s done. We did it. It’s finally over.” 

She nods into his chest, but she is sobbing by now. After so much time single-mindedly focused on this very outcome, its actual fulfilment leaves her spent. So he pulls her in tighter, sharing some of his strength and taking on some of her grief, for everything they’ve missed over the years. 

“Tali?” 

“She’s fine. She’s safe. We’ve got it covered.” 

Her breathing gets shallower and he can feel her heart racing; this is also something he is now used to. “Ziva? Breathe, okay? Look at me.” When he can’t get through her sobs, he gently cups her face and lifts her head, so that her eyes meet his. “Take it easy. You know the drill, right? Just take some deep breaths with me, okay?” She hesitantly slows her pace, swallowing her cries, until ultimately her breathing matches his and her heart returns to a normal rhythm. They continue to stand there, his forehead resting on hers, as he whispers reassuringly that they are free at last. 

Gibbs watches this from a distance, wanting to give the kids their privacy in the moment of victory. Even as the rest of the response team files in, hot on their trail (but, he’d like to point out, nearly too late), he tries to give the couple a protective bubble, if only for an extra minute or two. The partners, in contrast, are blind to the oncoming cavalry, and the elder is moved by how practiced this is for them. All the anguish, the sleepless nights and the lonely days, they are all encapsulated in this tableau. He notices DiNozzo place a kiss on Ziva’s lips, which she gently reciprocates, causing him to smile to himself and bashfully turn around to begin his Sit Rep with McGee and the rest of the agents. (Some things you don’t need to see your kids do.) 

However, voices in the distance remind them that some of their old selves may not have abandoned them after all. 

“You were supposed to stay back! We agreed you would stay with Tali so that at least one of us came back alive!” 

“Yeah, well, I thought about it, then I decided that was a really dumb plan, because we’re always better when we’re a team. Which, _hello_, case in point. I’d rather deal with you yelling at me than dead.” 

“You could have been killed!”

“Oh hi, pot calling the kettle black! Besides, I had backup.” 

“What are you talking about?! You were by yourself with armed terrorists!” 

“Ah, but zat eez ver you are wrong, Zee-vah,” he teases in that special silly voice he saves for his girls to lighten the mood, “I had you.” 

She pouts again. Mostly she is just relieved, and collapses back into his embrace. 

— 

After the crime scene is combed and packed up for the next phase of the investigation at the lab, they head back to headquarters for their debriefing, the perfunctory bookend to this unbelievable tale. Tony and Ziva are the walking dead at this point, but that doesn’t stop him from instinctively reaching for her hand as they enter the old stomping grounds that made them who they are. Vance struts down the staircase to meet them, shaking Tony’s hand and nodding at Ziva, as if that comes remotely close to expressing his indebtedness for their help. 

“Job well done. Thank you. Both of you. I know this wasn’t easy.” 

Ziva snorts, and somewhere deep down there is a tinge of resentment, which she stifles, as that is a rant for another day. Tony’s presence calms her, and he offers their thanks to the director for his help in orchestrating the final mission. For reading himself and Ziva in over the years when it became clear this threat could cost them everything. There are questions and reports and forms to fill, and both of the former agents respond in a sort of auto-pilot, surprised at how engrained the routine still is within them, even when they are so bone tired they are ready to drop. 

“I can’t imagine how relieved you must be right now.” 

Ziva turns to her replacement on the team, the woman with the bright eyes and bigger heart, and tries to muster up as much gratitude in her smile as she can in her exhaustion. 

“Thank you, Agent Bishop. For everything. For keeping my secret… And for breaking it when it counted. Our family owes you everything. All of you.” 

Bishop’s grin could light up the whole city’s power grid. 

“Please, it’s Ellie. And it’s nothing you wouldn’t have done. I’m just glad you guys are finally getting your happy ending.” 

“Mmm, happy ending. I am not sure I even know what that is anymore.” There is a hint of sadness to her voice, but she tries to push it down. She is damned if her demons are going to ruin this second chance. 

“And we’ve got a flight to catch as soon as this is done to get a head start on that.” Tony pipes up as he wraps an arm around her shoulders, reassuring them both. 

“Where is Tali?” McGee asks, still a little incredulous that in the space of seventy-two hours, one of his best friends awoke from the dead, and another played knight in shining armour to save them both. 

“Last I heard she was on vacation with her grandpa. Apparently Disneyland Paris was a big hit. I’m kinda glad Senior took that one for the team.” 

They stand around the middle of the room to chatter tiredly, passing the time until they are dismissed, happy to be together, but all aware that there is much more at stake. They barely register the ding of the elevator opening onto the floor, until a shriek breaks them out of their reverie. 

“IMA!” 

Ziva’s eyes widen, for a second worried that she’s having another anxiety attack, but then the reality in front of her registers. A miniature version of her comes flying at her full throttle, launching herself into her arms. Her mother hangs on tight, and the floodgates open for real. She sobs into the child’s hair, whispering every missed “I love you” and “I missed you” she has been holding in for the past three years. 

“Maybe I forgot to mention that their trip made a pit stop in DC,” Tony interjects, yet he’s overwhelmed at the sight himself, realizing their little family is whole at last. 

“Where is Senior, by the way?” 

Kasie, who’d been trying to keep up with her special charge, chimes in, “He was a little wiped from the flight over, so Director Vance let him use his office to nap on the couch, ‘cause this little tornado wore him ragged. Tali’s been hanging out with me in the lab and is a most excellent assistant, I might add. We heard you were back in the building so it was time to come join the party.” 

“Daddy, I got to use this microscope that made stuff SUPER big! It was so cool!” 

“I’ll bet it was, Tiger. _Qu’est-ce qu’on dit_?” He prompts in his very broken French. 

“_Merci_, Kasie.” 

“My pleasure, Awesome Assistant Tali.” 

He cannot express how thankful he is that his daughter is oblivious to how much their world has just been irrevocably changed. Somehow, he’s proud that he’s been able to give her what she needs to be so well-adjusted. Especially considering her parents’ propensity to blow their lives apart. He places a protective hand on Ziva’s back, solidifying their unit for good. 

“Ima, why are you crying?” 

“I am just really happy, sweetheart.” She wipes the tears away, and cannot stop staring at her daughter. _Her daughter_. Her daughter who she is holding in her arms and never wants to put down. (Despite the fact that she is most definitely getting to be too heavy to lift.) Her daughter who has now lost teeth and whose limbs have stretched out and is even less like the baby she first left with her father. 

Gibbs takes in the scene, a few feet apart from the rest of the squad, basking in the serenity that has now settled upon them all. As though their missing piece has been found, and their chain is complete. He cannot remember the last time he felt anything this close to happiness, but he’d wager it is as close as he will ever get. 

Seemingly sensing his exhilaration, Ziva catches his eye and stares right into him, refusing to let him turn away. Her chin quivers a little, and he nods back at her, acknowledging everything she intends to voice with her look. Every apology, every act of love and desperation, every expression of thanks passes between them wordlessly across the bullpen. He is flooded with emotion at the notion of the partners growing up and walking off into the sunset, once and for all. She is overcome with gratitude that the man who is the only father who truly mattered to her is back in her life. (This she will promise if it’s the last thing she does.) 

“Daddy, how long are we visiting Ima here?” 

“We’re not visiting, kiddo.” Tali’s eyebrows narrow in confusion at him, uncannily like her mother’s. “We’re going home. All three of us. Together.” 

Her face lights up. “Really?!” 

“Really,” Ziva confirms, feeling pure joy in every cell of her body for the first time in longer than she can remember. (Maybe ever.) 

“We are finally going home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is folks! This will be debunked by whatever happens on Tuesday night, but I've had this in my head since the premiere so I had to get it out of my system. And I can't stand the thought of Ziva being separated from her family with no contact for over 3 years, so I ignored it. What can I say, I'm a sucker for the father-daughter angsty vibes and of Ziva finally being allowed to deal with all her trauma. Who'd a thunk we'd all be back and watching new Ziva content in season 17, am I right?!
> 
> Enjoy 17x02 next week guys!


End file.
